Disclaimer: Grimm does not belong to me... sigh...

Summary chapter 1:

Nick, Hank and Renard meet some rather violent insect wesen... gaining a whole lot of trouble for Nick and much work for Hank and the Captain.

Unfortunate incidents:

1. This prickly feeling:

Nick is standing in some dingy warehouse, tightly gripping a rusty rail for support and waiting for Hank and Captain Renard to return from cuffing crazy and thank God, unconscious wesen to something sturdy enough to hold them once they regain consciousness.

He would have helped but somehow he cannot bring himself to move anytime soon... or ever.

This morning all's been well...

and has been steadily going downhill from there.

They have found a good lead on a crime scene and the Captain – since he's been there anyway – tagged along once it became clear this was wesen related.

Thus the warehouse, a short but intense fight, and Nick's dilemma:

Six stingers of God knows what insect like wesen – each about index finger length – are currently sticking out of the Grimm's back where he cannot even reach to pluck them out.

Of course, they are also everything you do not want things, sticking out of your body, to be:

Poisonous (as Renard informed him neutrally before going off with Hank and reassuring them both that Nick is in no immediate danger of dying), extremely painful –jup, he can certainly attest to that one – and what makes things worse, going to be even more painful because of the poisonous part!

"These need to be pulled out as soon as possible."

Nick jumps in surprise, whirls around. He has not noticed the man approaching and glares at his Captain for being a sneaky bastard and for making him move when it hurts like hell to do so! Apparently Hank is still out doing whatever their boss has ordered him to do.

"Do you have to startle me like this? But hey, if I die from shock I won't have a problem with poisoning anymore."

His zauberbiest Captain just raises an eyebrow at this.

"Will you let me have a look at your back now?" Nick hesitates briefly. Technically they are still in a state of barely trusting each other but Nick's options are limited to say the least. Because, let's face it, Hank doesn't know a thing about what they have faced, Nick himself has not yet seen a wesen like this in his books and that leaves the Captain as his only source of information.

With a small sigh – as if steeling himself – he turns his back toward the other man. Nick bites his lip to keep from making a sound when Renard steps up closely behind him and carefully rips open his shirt where stingers went through fabric.

Ou, ouch, uuh... that hurts!

Slightly calloused fingertips touch reddened, abused skin, prod the slightest bit...

Arrrgh, PAIN!

His Detective instantly recoils from his touch, emitting a low, most likely unintended moan of discomfort. He doesn't turn away from him, though, or steps away, just looks over his shoulder less than pleased.

Interesting.

"These definitely need to be pulled out." Sean repeats his earlier assessment completely unfazed by another black glare the Grimm sends his way.

"Knowing how much it hurt when you barely even touched my skin I'm sooo looking forward to...!"

Renard's hand shoots out before Nick can even begin to comprehend and pulls out the top most thorn – all with the speed of something inhuman and the precision of a surgeon.

Hell! Scratch pain... A FUCKING WHOLE LOT OF PAIN!

The next thing Nick knows is that he's on the floor – on his knees and barely holding up – after his legs haven given way from sheer pain. If he could have breathed, he would have cursed colourfully. As it is, trying not to faint is taking up all of his energy. Well, he can murder his superior officer with his eyes even while catching his breath so that has to do it for now.

"I think you should sit down for this. It will only get worse the longer we wait."

"Okay, okay. Just give... me a damn minute to get up."

"I'll even give you a hand up."

"Oh that's so very nice of you", Nick hisses snarkily but takes the hand Renard holds out to him. At some point Hank has returned and eyes his boss and his partner with barely concealed amusement.

"I'm your Captain, I'm meant to be supportive."

"How come then, that you are not?"

"I'm preventing you from being further poisoned. I'm quite sure that constitutes supportiveness." Nick only snorts at this.

Actions totally belying exchanged barbs, the Captain leads his Detective to an old storage box – grip on his upper arm tight and his stance more than a bit protective. Even more protective than either of them realises, Hank thinks, as he observes their slow progress through the room. Nick can barely move – not without suffering great pain, anyway – and by the looks of it, he's feeling more than a bit woozy. Their boss seems to know this and thus, watches every move of his Grimm like a hawk (or mother hawk if anyone were to ask Hank for assessment).

As Nick is finally instilled sitting on the box Hank takes that as his cue to announce his presence:

"Nick, play nice. The Captain is just trying to help and you are behaving like a toddler."

"So not doing that."

His younger partner mumbles while giving his zauberbiest Captain reluctant access to his back. He even leans forward a bit, elbows resting on his thighs. Renard and Hank exchange looks that literally go over Nick's head before the Royal proceeds to pluck out those very irksome stingers. If their local Grimm howls in pain once or twice during it all nobody mentions it.

GRIMM GRIMM GRIMM

Afterwards Nick is not entirely sure if maybe he's passed out sometime during the whole ordeal but he knows – and oh how that smarts to admit – that Renard's firm grip on his left shoulder is about the only thing keeping him sitting on the rickety box.

"Now that we're past this, the wounds need to be washed out." It takes a bit for the words to register in his mind but when they do, Nick can only groan loudly.

"You just like to torture this insolent, cocky Grimm, who's had the audacity to settle down in your canton and still not follow you every order!"

"Now that you mention it..." The Prince deadpans dispassionately but his smirk could rival the devil's.

"Well, will you let me do it?" Hank is sure neither of them is aware but despite their difference in power Captain Renard asks for permission every time he's about to enter Nick's personal space and comfort zone.

"By all means, do it."

Sean turns to Hank then.

"Can you go and find out, if there are any pipes in the building still producing water?"

"Sure thing, Captain."

And with that Hank goes off in search of something even remotely resembling clear water. While Nick shoots his superior confused and slightly peevish looks, Sean waits patiently for him to finally spit out the question he obviously has.

"Why did you ask me, if I was okay with you washing out the wounds, when you didn't even know there was water to begin with?"

"No sense having Hank fetch water, if you refuse to let me use it." He replies with an untypical one sided shrug.

"No problem. If it isn't necessary after all, I'm all for skipping this whole cleaning business, you know?"

"Believe me, it is." There's enough seriousness in the Royal's smooth voice for Nick to take him at face value but still...

"Then why did you ask in the first place? Argh! Okay, I admit defeat! I'm officially out of this one. Do what you want, just make sure I don't die along the way." Nick shakes his head in bewilderment making the smallest of smiles appear on Renard's aquiline features.

"Anything important happened? Why did Nick say he's out?" Hank queries while carrying a bucket full of water into the room.

"Oh, he meant that literally."

"How so?"

"He's going to pass out in..." The tall man gazes at his wrist watch. "... a quarter of an hour if my estimation is correct." The Grimm and the royal bastard exchange a long neutral look, for once completely understanding each other.

"And despite behaving like a toddler and exchanging snark with me he knows this very well. Thus, him saying he's out."

"Oh, okay."

"So not doing that", Nick slurs from his spot on the box. Hank laughs, gazing fondly at his partner.

"Not doing what, acting like a toddler or passing out?" Nick only grumbles something unintelligible, which the Captain takes as his cue to take the bucket from Hank.

"Actually I'm not sure this will make it any better" Hank tells his boss in a stage whisper.

"At least I waited until it turned from murky brown to clear but other than that I'm not sure."

"It will have to do." The Grimm gives off a last "Errgh!" at Hank's admission before giving himself over to the mercy of his 'caretakers'. Later he's not sure if he's fainted before or after Renard has started to wipe out his wounds with semi clean water and a handkerchief but he remembers well a feeling of foreboding when the tall man steps up behind him to begin his work.

GRIMM GRIMM GRIMM

When he wakes up it is on his couch. He's instantly sure it's his couch because after that whole Juliette memory loss disaster he's more familiar with this piece of furniture than he's ever wanted to be. Hank lounges in an armchair, beer in hand, looking quite comfy.

"Good to know you're not wanting for anything." Nick's voice is gravelly from disuse – and maybe from screaming a few times while Renard has tortured... errr... patched him up. He rubs sleep from his eyes and makes a first attempt at sitting up, real slow. Doing so is painful but not as bad as moving was before. There are also bandages wrapped around his shoulder and torso.

Hank gives a huff of laughter at his remark but generally just looks relieved that his partner is awake and reasonably well again.

"Sorry, buddy. You were not 'here' to ask, you know? So what's a guy to do?"

"I would offer you one, but the Cap' left me with detailed instructions for your care, so sorry, alcohol is a big no-no."

At first Hank holds the second bottle of microbrew out of reach but a truly fearsome (which translates to pity inducing puppy Grimm eyed) stare takes care of that.

"That sounds way too much like an extract from 'How-to-take-care-of-your-pet-Grimm-Monthly'." Nick is clever enough not to lean back into the couch. That wouldn't go over well giving how battered his back is right now.

"And anyway, since when is our Captain an expert on wesen illnesses and cures, ... apart from being haft-zauberbiest and generally the villainous type?" He grins bemusedly and takes a nice long swig from his beer.

"I heard this, Detective." Nick spews his microbrew all over the table as Renard steps into the room.

"Captain!"

"And don't even think about drinking the rest of that. As Hank apparently cannot be trusted to hold you up to follow my instructions, it seems I have to stay overnight." The tall man heaves a silent sigh before pinning both of his detectives with a stern glare. Only when they look down like chastised schoolboys and Nick puts the full bottle away does their zauberbiest Captain retire to the second armchair with a book in hand.

"Should I have mentioned he's still here?"

"I don't know, maybe?!" Hank ignores the heavy sarcasm with practised ease while Nick ignores his big teasing grin with the same practice.

"And, Sir, is this my crime novel you are reading there?"

The man slowly looks up with what Nick can only describe as completely infuriating royal aloofness.

"What an astute observation, Detective. I'm impressed. And now, lie back down and get a good night's sleep. Of course, if you want to feel heavily hung over tomorrow, you are free to ignore me."

"If you knew this couch you wouldn't call it a good night's sleep but if you insist... who am I to disobey the ruler of this canton?" Finally a mischievous gleam has re-entered Nick's eyes.

Shaking his head in exasperation Sean lowers his gaze back to 'his' book.

"Impudent Grimm... should have tortured him after all."

Those last muttered words have Nick scowling and Hank chortling with laughter.

"You already did this so there's no 'should have'."

"Really? Last time I checked torture didn't include health benefits for the victim."

Before Nick can respond to that one, Hank speaks up:

"Well, now that you're all set for the night, I'm off. Have a nice evening." He makes a hasty retreat before Nick can voice any of his no doubt colourful protests.

Sean smirks inwardly. All in all the day has been more enjoyable than he's expected:

A bit of outdoor activity as opposed to meetings and paperwork, torturing, teasing and saving his Grimm Detective, generally scaring the shit out of his subordinates... yes, quite enjoyable.

When he looks back up from his novel some time later he finds Nick sprawled out on the sofa – lying half on his stomach to keep weight off his back – deeply asleep and ostensibly quite content to rest while his villainous Captain watches over him.